


Over the Wall

by wilderswans



Series: Widomauk 30 Day NSFW Challenge [9]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Apologies, D/s, Frottage, M/M, Makeup Sex, Marking, Wall Sex, of a sort, two dingdongs navigate a relationship, with a mild hint of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 07:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilderswans/pseuds/wilderswans
Summary: Caleb knows he should be more upset.(Day 9 of the 30 Day NSFW OTP challenge: Against the Wall)





	Over the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> aaand we're back! Thanks for waiting so patiently for this update, especially after how the last installment ended. 
> 
> My sincere thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read, comment, and leave kudos - you have my heartfelt thanks and appreciation.

Caleb knows he should be more upset. He knows this as surely as he knows the time at any hour of day or night, and as intimately as he knows fire.

He isn’t. Any furrow that anger or hurt has left is filled with longing after five days, filled up to the brim with longing and lust, and it spills over into his very veins and threatens to drown him when the knock at the door comes.

It’s Molly. It has to be. He slows his frantic strokes.

“ _Molly_.” His voice is wrecked to his own ears; his back a neat bow off the mattress. He can’t move to get the door, can only hope that it is Molly and not Nott or any one of their companions, come to see why Caleb is hiding away in his room like an antisocial dormouse.

Well, if it were Jester, he’s pretty sure she’d know why already.

The door opens, and the sensation of Molly’s eyes on him as he hurriedly closes the door causes him to gasp, helplessly, pinned under the red gaze.

Then he hears the click of the lock and groans, sparks of pleasure coursing through him as Molly steps closer to the bed, footfalls light on the creaky floor. Caleb has missed him immensely - has missed his smile and his laugh and the way he touches him.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” Caleb says, still palming himself. Under Molly’s gaze he feels like he’s burning up, though in the most pleasant way conceivable. Molly’s mouth does that peculiar quirk where he’s trying very hard not to smirk - the first time Caleb had seen it, he’d thought Molly was trying not to laugh at him. Now, he suspects Molly’s suppressing a genuine smile, only barely keeping it at bay.

“Darling,” Molly says. Caleb shivers. If he thought Molly’s voice, hushed and seductive through the cantrip, it has nothing on how he sounds now - breathless, almost sultry. “Stop.”

Caleb’s hand stills immediately, without him even thinking about it, and Mollymauk raises his eyebrows in approval. “Gods, look at you. Do you want to come?”

Caleb’s mouth grows dry; he swallows with a soft click. “ _Ja_ ,” he says, voice a low rasp.

Molly coos, but it’s not mocking or cruel. Something about it sets every nerve ending alight - it should rub him the wrong way, but here he is, growing impossibly harder as Molly croons, “How badly do you want it?”

He has to close his eyes. “So badly - Mollymauk, I -”

“I know, darling,” Molly says, soft and placating, eyes sweeping up and down Caleb’s body - he knows his cheeks are flushed red, and he hadn’t bothered to even strip down before he started touching himself, merely rucked his shirt up and undid the buttons of his trousers before inelegantly shoving a hand in. “I’ll take care of you, darling, I promise, but I want to see all of you.”

Caleb bites his lip, suddenly turned into a quivering jelly of desire. He releases his cock to start working his trousers off of his hips, pulling one leg off at a time and peeling off his socks, before Molly makes a soft sound that suggests consideration.

“Could you stand up for me?” he asks. “Against the wall?”

It is phrased as a question, but there is enough firmness in his tone that makes it clear to Caleb - it is not an order, but Molly would really like him against the wall. He obeys, kicking his trousers off as he does, and turns to face Molly with his back against wall before lifting the hem of his loose shirt. Before his vision is obscured by the fabric he catches a glimpse of Molly’s expression, and the sheer affection on the tiefling’s face just about knocks the breath straight out of him.

“Naked, please,” Molly reminds him gently, for he’s hesitated. Caleb strips the rest of the way in a hurry and throws the clothing in the general direction of the bed, feeling himself flush under Molly’s appraising gaze. The affection is still there, though less open, and briefly Caleb wonders if the warmth in Molly’s eyes wasn’t something he was meant to see.

“Caleb.” Molly sighs. His cheeks are flushed dark. He looks rumpled and thoroughly devastating. By all the gods, Caleb has _missed him_. “Caleb, what would you like?”

Shifting from foot to foot under Molly’s gaze, Caleb considers. “I thought this was your game,” he says, after a moment’s pause. He wants - everything, if he were to be honest. The filthy things Molly whispered back at him through the Message cantrip, Molly’s hands on him, Molly’s clever mouth, to kiss Molly in the light of day, to use the little charms dangling from his horns as talismans against the nightmares.

“It is my game, but it’s built around what you want,” Molly says - no guile, painfully simple. “What do you want, Caleb?”

That’s easy enough. “You,” says Caleb, honest as he’s ever said anything. “Just you, Mollymauk.”

He can’t read the expression that crosses Mollymauk’s face, but it must have been a good answer, because Mollymauk closes the distance between them in three swift strides and presses against him until he’s crowded against the wall. This is not like the moment in Zadash, the thinly-veiled threat, nothing like it - and the thought must cross Molly’s mind too, for he gives Caleb a little smile like they’re sharing an inside joke.

“You have me,” he says, soft and warm. Caleb closes his eyes at the sound of his voice and the insistent press of Molly’s hips against him, the sword-calloused hand that reaches down to circle his flagging erection. He hisses an inhale as Molly begins to stroke; after nearly a week of no contact it’s almost too much.

“You have me,” Molly repeats, and this time it sounds more like a promise. Caleb lets his head fall to Molly’s shoulder, brings his hands to rest on Molly’s hips so he can pull him tight, searching for friction.

It is so intensely good Caleb feels like he should be cautious - so much pleasure after five days of confusion and hurt; half of his brain screams to not trust any of this, while the other half - the half starved for Molly’s touch, for kisses - roars for him to take this. To take his pleasure with Molly rubbing against him, pressed up against this wall in a cold little room above a tavern where the fire isn’t even lit. To tilt his head in a silent plea, and to have Molly answer with a fierce press of lips.

He kisses back as forcefully as he dares, feeling Molly gasp against him when Caleb, in a sudden stroke of boldness, nips his lower lip before soothing the little hurt with his tongue. Then Molly groans, pulling away for breath, and the sound is so heartfelt Caleb feels he might spend right that instant. His hips, thrusting to meet Molly’s, stutter in their frantic rhythm, and Molly must notice for he tilts back down for another kiss and murmurs, “Are you close?”

Nodding, Caleb bites his lip. “Molly - _bitte_ , please, I need -”

He can’t say what he needs, all he knows is that he needs more of it. More heat, more friction, Molly’s fingers pressing bruises into the curves of his hipbones as they frot together, pushing Caleb closer and closer to the inexorable rush. Thankfully, Molly seems to understand, for he lowers his head to Caleb’s neck and bites, a sharp bloom of pain that crawls beneath his skin to fuel the pleasure. This time Caleb gasps, tilting his head back against the wall, tilting to allow Molly better access. That clever mouth bites and sucks at the tender skin of his throat, nips of sharp teeth and bruising kisses as Caleb grinds his cock into the curve of Molly’s thigh, panting, keening.

Molly pulls away from a bruise he’s created and kisses it, soft in contrast to the stinging edge of his bites and bruises - marking him, Gods - and Caleb shudders against him, wrenching his eyes shut and shaking, helpless, as he comes. Low in his ear, Molly urges him on, murmuring sweet nonsense and stroking his hips until the sensation almost becomes too much; he’s blinking back tears by the time Molly’s touch softens, soothes.

He tries to breathe, feeling wrung-out but, strangely, not in an unpleasant way. Sighing, he leans against the wall and hears Molly chuckle, still pressed close.

“Was that good?”

“Mngh,” is all he can muster up as a response, and Molly chuckles again before pressing his warm lips to Caleb’s forehead.

“Do you want to go to the bed now?”

The noise Caleb makes could be affirmation, but it could also be a lot of things. His brain has rather suddenly left the building, and his knees feel like jelly. Mollymauk peels away and, taking him by the hands, guides him the few feet back to the bed, careful not to trip over any of Caleb’s scattered clothing.

Once Caleb’s all settled on the bed, pulling the quilts over himself and cocooning in like a child, he watches as Molly strips himself. Dimly Caleb wants to apologize; he’s spent all over Molly’s clothing and that won’t be easy to clean, but Molly looks up as he’s shimmying out of his tight trousers to give Caleb a fond smile.

“I missed you,” Caleb says, as Molly clambers into the bed beside him. It’s large enough for a grown man; comfortable enough for a grown man and a goblin prone to sleeping curled up at the foot of the bed. The fit is a little tight with Mollymauk in the bed next to him, and Caleb wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I missed you too,” Molly says. He’s whispering, like they’re sharing a secret. “Are we okay?”

Caleb considers. His faculties are returning, slowly but surely, and silently he weighs his thoughts from earlier - he should be upset, now that he is no longer desperate to come. He ought to sit Molly down and have a serious talk about....whatever they are, and the hurt he carried for five days while Molly wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“ _Ja_ ,” he says. “We are okay. I trust you to tell me what was wrong when you are ready.”

Molly relaxes at that, the tension in his face melting away into a warm sort of sleepiness. “Thank you, Caleb. For trusting me. It means a lot.”

“You try very hard to be an untrustworthy person,” Caleb comments, shuffling a bit beneath the covers. Molly smirks.

“For everyone else, definitely. But I think you know me well enough by now to not fall for it.”

Pressed close together like this, Caleb can’t help but recall the first night they spent in each other’s arms, in another rickety inn bed. He recalls Bugbear Day, and sharing a bedroll and each other’s warmth on a cold night. Something swells in his heart, and it spurs him to lean forward and capture Molly’s lips in a tender kiss, almost chaste to the frantic open-mouthed kisses of just a few minutes ago.

_I fall for a lot of other things instead_ , Caleb thinks, and smiles against Molly’s mouth.


End file.
